


Purgatory

by asslalonde (rawrmynameisval)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little bit of claustrophobia, Afterlife, Angst, Basically necrophilia, Blood, Gore, It's really gross okay, M/M, Sexual Gore, and then continues to get weirder, idk what else to tag it, it gets weird in the second chapter, just be cautious when reading, lots of gore, oh and a bit of asphyxiation, tbh it's not that graphic, violent gorey sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrmynameisval/pseuds/asslalonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's dead. Sebastian's dead. They meet again in the after life. Things have changed. (Post-Reichenbach, obviously.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience

Sebastian Moran opened his eyes. A dull ache in his gut and a bright white light greeted him.

“Oh, there you are.”

So did his boss’ voice.

Jim Moriarty inched into his line of sight. “Took you long enough. Get up. You look awful.”

Sebastian sat up and scanned their surroundings. Nothing at all. “We’re dead.”

“Genius!” Jim cried, throwing his hands in the air. His face went sour again a moment later. “Yes, and I’ve been up here for--” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Either half a second, or forever. I can’t tell. Time is fucked in this place.”

“‘Up’? You think this is heaven?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Fuck no. Heaven doesn’t exist.”

“Hell, then?”

His boss snorted. “A fairytale.”

Sebastian watched him begin to pace. “What is this then?”

“I don’t fucking know. We’re just dead, okay?”

“...How did I die?”

Jim stopped pacing. “You don’t remember either?”

“Sorry, sir?”

“We both can’t remember how we died.”

“You killed yourself, sir.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“...I suppose it was part of your plan. To destroy Sherlock Holmes.”

Jim brightened. “How did that work out anyway?”

Sebastian didn’t answer.

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Is he still alive? He is, isn’t he?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jim didn’t yell for once. He turned his back on Sebastian and didn’t say a word to him. It could have only been a minute or two, but it was long enough that it mattered. Long enough that even Sebastian could grow frustrated and tired with him.

In the time spent here, Jim Moriarty had learned patience.


	2. Tolerance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets weird.

“Do you know how I died, sir?”

Jim winced. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

Sebastian felt that aching pulsing in his abdomen. Still he ignored the urge to look down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was _sad_.”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side. “Sad, sir?”

“Pathetic.”

“Oh.”

Jim pulled out the empty cigarette pack he kept in his back pocket. It was still empty. He scowled and shoved it back in his pocket. He would pull it out to check again soon.

“Jim.”

“Yes, Sebastian?”

He blinked at his boss. “How did it happen?”

“How did what happen?”

Sebastian blinked again. “My death. How did I die?”

“Oh. Car accident. Impaled through the stomach.”

Sebastian looked down and saw the jagged piece of metal for the first time. He touched it gingerly. “Still warm.”

Jim nodded, checking the cigarette pack again. “And still bleeding. Wounds up here never heal, and blood never clots. But it doesn’t flow either. It just stays wet and new, and never washes away. Not that there’s any water here to try, though.”

“Can I see...?”

Jim looked up at him blearily, as if jerked away from his thoughts too suddenly. “Oh, yes.”

He turned around and Sebastian saw, again for the first time, the place in the back of his head where the bullet broke through. He only saw it now simply because Jim wanted to show it to him.

Jim could see the metal in his stomach now too, because Sebastian wanted it to show, and he somehow lessened the distance between them without taking a step.

He touched Sebastian’s chest thoughtfully, fingers trailing down shirt fabric until he reached the wet and twisted flesh just under his rib cage.

“I bet if we pulled this out, the hole would be fun to fuck.”

“Yeah, and how ‘bout you widen that bullet wound and let me fuck your head too.”

Jim waved his venom-filled comment aside with ease. “You’ll get bored. Then you’ll beg me to fuck your guts.”

In the time spent here, Jim Moriarty had learned tolerance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah.


	3. Appreciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boredom gets to you after a while, especially in a place where time and space don't exist. Sebastian caves in quickly.

Sebastian pulled at the metal inside him. He felt nothing. The ache had stopped a long time ago. Now he just felt numb. There was no heat or cold in this place. He didn’t get hungry or thirsty or tired. Jim was right. Time was fucked here. All he felt was bored.

He tried tugging on it. It didn’t budge.

He had died in a car accident. Nothing too exciting. No final ultimate good vs. evil showdown. He didn’t even fulfill the one thing Jim entrusted him with after he was gone.

Holmes was alive. So was the doctor.

And he had been killed in a _car accident_. He understood now why Jim had called it sad. It _was_ sad. It was depressingly _boring_. Impaled by white-hot shrapnel from the wreck.

Anyone can say they died in a car crash. Fewer can say they were killed in direct combat.

That’s all he wanted. A final battle. Anything would be more dignified for someone like Sebastian Moran than to die in a fucking car crash.

Jim interrupts his thoughts. “Sebastian.”

“Yes, Jim?”

“I’ve run out of cigarettes. Have you got any?”

He checked all his pockets, even though he knew he didn’t. “No, sir.”

Jim frowned. “Shame.” He started to turn back to his walking which he did everyday, claiming it helped him think. But it was pointless. The farther he walked, the closer he was to his sniper.

Space was fucked here too.

“Jim.”

“Yes, Sebastian?”

They said each other’s names to remind them they still existed.

“Will you help me pull this out?”

A faint smile played on Jim’s lips and a bit of the light was back in his eyes. It only lasted for a moment but something about it made Sebastian feel warm.

“Can I fuck the wound when it’s out?”

Sebastian blinked. “Sure.”

Jim closed in on him, got a good grip, and pulled hard. Sebastian felt it give an inch. The movement caused his lungs to inflate with air. Only after the single breathy gasp was gone did he realize they didn’t breathe here either.

Jim stared at Sebastian. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“What did it feel like?”

“I could breath again, sir.”

“You were alive.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim rubbed his face in concentration. “We need to pull it out.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll go back.”

Sebastian stopped his hand from tugging again. “I’m not sure I want to leave, sir.”

Jim stared at him, incredulous. “Why not?”

Sebastian hesitated. “I can’t just leave you here alone. You’d go mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

“Mad _der_.”

Jim smirked and a little bit of the old Jim was there again, burning. “Not seeing your point, love.”

Sebastian felt.

“Jim, I already lived without you for a few years. I’m not too keen on the idea of going back.”

Jim snorted. “Do you think I wouldn’t take the chance to be alive again? Even if it meant deserting you, leaving you to your own madness, I would.” He turned away from Sebastian cold and scornfully.

Sebastian felt again. It wasn’t good this time.

But this was still old Jim. Before he became bored. And that was always good.

“I’ll do what you ask of me, sir.”

Jim froze. Sebastian could tell he was feeling.

“Sir?”

Jim whirled around to face him again. “You’re a good boy, Sebby.”

“Will you help me pull this out, sir?”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

In the time spent here, Jim Moriarty had learned appreciation.


	4. Compassion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

Each time the hunk of metal moved--it was still warm after all this time--Sebastian found himself breathing in stale air from the living place. That’s what they had started calling it. The living place. And this, where they were, was just ‘here’.

“Jim.”

“Sebastian?”

“I think I’m in a grave.”

“Of course. You’re dead, stupid.”

“Jim.”

“Sebastian?”

“If I go back, I’ll end up trapped six feet underground.”

Jim didn’t respond. Sebastian could see through his glazed eyes where he was trying to wave away the smoke in his mind.

Sebastian felt. It was another bad one. Why hadn’t Jim thought of that before him?

What else was he forgetting?

“Sebastian.”

“Jim?”

Jim touched the light around them, and twisted a strand into a thread. “I’m not going to let you go back.”

“Sir?”

“We have to take it out.” He gestured to the warm, twisted metal entwined in his organs. “But you’re not going to stay.”

He tied the string of light around Sebastian’s neck.

“Sir?”

“I’ll pull you back as soon as you leave me.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

Jim stared at him. “It will work. Don’t you trust me?”

Sebastian nodded without hesitation.

Jim pat his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Sebby.”

Sebastian felt. But this one was warm.

In the time spent here, Jim Moriarty had learned compassion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap.


	5. Negation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you should know where this is going by now.

It was halfway out now. It had taken hours--or maybe years, or less than a second perhaps--to progress this far. Sebastian felt hopeful, but didn’t know why.  
  
“Almost there, love.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“I’m holding on tight to your leash.”  
  
Sebastian gave him a tight-mouthed smile. “Right.”  
  
“These will be easier. You’ll go fast.”  
  
“I’m ready, sir.”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
Jim jerked at the metal again and looked pleased at the wet gasp he pulled from Sebastian.  
  
“You don’t sound ready,” he teased.  
  
Sebastian felt an unpleasant heat. It might have been anger. Or embarrassment.  
  
“I am. Pull it out the rest of the way.”  
  
“Don’t panic when you get there.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“You will.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Jim gave the final tug and it popped out, and he felt blood and misplaced intestines flooding in to fill its place.  
  
He was underground. In a coffin. In his grave. The air was musty and damp, and fucking dead.  
  
Breathing didn’t feel good. And he could feel, and it wasn’t anything good at all. He panicked.  
  
“ _Take me back!_ ” he screamed, pounding on the door of the coffin. “ _Take me back, Jim! Don’t you fucking dare leave me like this!_ ”  
  
He felt a slight tugging at his neck and he remembered the thread. “Jim...”  
  
The tugging grew stronger and suffocated him. He no longer could breathe, and he surrendered happily to the euphoria of asphyxiation.  
  
He was back in the white place. Jim straddled him.  
  
“Sebby.”  
  
“Jim.”  
  
“I’m going to fuck you now.”  
  
The instantaneous change in Jim’s voice from sincere adoration to apathetic selfishness sent chills down Sebastian’s spine. Reality finally set in.  
  
In the time spent here, Jim Moriarty had learned nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
  
Sebastian smiled.  
  
He was still insane. He was still a heartless, manipulative bastard who could play any role to get him the thing he wanted, no matter how insignificant that want was. He was still a psychopath, and how could Sebastian think he’d ever learn anything, even after his life was over? What made him think that Jim Moriarty would ever change?  
  
Sebastian felt. It was cold and refreshing and icy and bracing. It was a good feeling.  
  
Jim Moriarty was inside him now.  
  
Jim Moriarty was fucking his blood-filled wound.  
  
Jim Moriarty was making him scream and branding him with bruises.  
  
Jim Moriarty was digging his fingernails into the untwisted, undisturbed skin of his hips and stomach.  
  
Jim Moriarty was cumming inside him, his release mixing with the blood that was forever wet and hot.  
  
Sebastian Moran got no physical pleasure out of it, but he loved every second. Just the way things were meant to be.  
  
Life after death was pointless.  
  
They had learned nothing here.  
  
They were sick and it was going to take a lot more than purgatory to change that.


End file.
